When It Rains
by roktavor
Summary: "Just stay here, then!" The words are out of his mouth before Rantaro really knows what he's saying. He's sick of seeing Wakiya sulk in his kitchen, though, and it's the best solution he can think of that won't overly inconvenience anyone. (Rantaro and Wakiya get caught in the rain, and Wakiya has no way home.)


First KumiWaki oneshot I managed to finish! I've got a couple more in the works. This was originally part of Ragnaruk Zone, but I decided it didn't really fit, so standalone it is.

Uh, I really like sleepovers, impromptu or otherwise. Something about the implied closeness and shared space. Idk man. It's a cute and fun theme. Also I can't stop.

* * *

 **When It Rains  
**

In the span of ten minutes, Rantaro goes from walking home with Valt and talking amicably to standing drenched and dripping on the doorstep of his apartment building, with an equally drenched and dripping Wakiya next to him.

He doesn't even know what Wakiya is doing here – he lives further out towards the edge of town. Why Wakiya has been trailing behind him and Valt ever since they all left Shu's is also a mystery. Why he kept following Rantaro even after Valt made it home, and why he tagged along even during the downpour is _also_ a mystery. This whole thing makes no sense, and of course there's no move to explain.

There's just Rantaro, Wakiya, and the tiny overhang keeping out the worst of the rain.

"What are you doing?" Rantaro demands, framing it as much like a question as he can.

"Stayin' outta the rain, of course," Wakiya answers as he wrings out his ponytail, nose in the air.

Rantaro puts his hands on his hips, his jacket fanning out with the movement and continuing to drip water onto the front stoop. "Aren't you getting a ride home? How are they gonna find you?"

"Easy," Wakiya scoffs, slipping his phone from his pocket and shaking residual water droplets off the screen. "I'll just te…oh."

" _Oh_?" Rantaro repeats. He inches closer and leans over Wakiya's shoulder, and the sight that greets him is a stubbornly dark, blank phone screen. "Is it broken?!"

"Er…" Wakiya mashes the 'power' button repeatedly when holding it down doesn't seem to do the trick. "No?"

"Sure looks like it! You shouldn't have taken it out in the rain!"

"It's not broken!" An irate hand comes up to flip a blond, sopping ponytail over his shoulder, and it whacks Rantaro in the face. "It's water-proof! The battery's jus' drained 'cause y'all made me record yer beybattles!"

Rantaro huffs and sputters as he rubs at his wet face with an equally wet wrist. He gets a slightly unfavorable idea, but voices it anyway, because the alternative of shoving Wakiya back into the rain seems too mean.

"Well, we can't stay out here; come inside and see if my dad's charger works for your phone." Before he can change his mind and retract the offer, Rantaro yanks open the front door and goes inside. Wakiya is left with no real choice but to follow.

They step out of their shoes in the entryway after a short elevator ride, and Rantaro grumbles as he peels his socks off and leaves them behind as well.

It's just his luck that Wakiya would follow _him_ home – his apartment building is more modest than Shu's, and the apartment itself always seems to be host to a healthy amount of clutter. _Valt_ hasn't even been to Rantaro's home yet, and here's Wakiya, dripping onto the tiled kitchen floor and staring down at his phone in despair.

"Ah, this sucks!" Wakiya is complaining, "th' car broke down! Today of all days…."

"You're rich, right?" Rantaro stands a few steps away, squeezing excess water out of his jacket and into the sink. (He, at least, doesn't plan to track water everywhere.) "Don't rich people usually have more than one car?"

Wakiya frowns at him, and it's the scowling kind of frown that means he doesn't _have_ to say anything to let Rantaro know he's said something dumb, but he's about to do it anyway. "Yeah – whattaya take me fer? This one's just…the fastest."

That sounds like an absolute lie to Rantaro, but Wakiya's scowl has melted into a weird kind of pout that looks almost sad, so he doesn't pry. "It's not like I'm going to kick you back out into the rain if a car takes too long to get here," he says instead, going back to wringing out his jacket. "So just get someone else to pick you up."

A frustrated noise comes from Wakiya, then, followed by the clacking thud of his phone hitting the counter with more force than necessary. "Everyone's gone fer the night. Y'guys shouldn't've dragged me ta dinner."

"You wanted to come!" Rantaro shakes his jacket out and hangs it over his arm, then turns back to Wakiya. "Don't you guys have, like…live-in servants?"

" _No_."

"What about your parents?"

The look Wakiya gives him for that comment is venomous, and Rantaro is stuck between glaring back and throwing his hands up in surrender. He settles for crossing his arms and glowering a little.

Wakiya breaks the stare-down off in favor of reaching for his phone again. He makes a disappointed noise as he supposedly replies to another text message telling him he's out of luck.

"Just stay here, then!" The words are out of his mouth before Rantaro really knows what he's saying. He's sick of seeing Wakiya sulk in his kitchen, though, and it's the best solution he can think of that won't overly inconvenience anyone.

Wakiya's expression is thoroughly caught off guard for half of a moment before he rights himself and covers it with his usual haughtiness. "Why would I wanna do that?"

Rantaro bristles, one remark away from retracting his offer. "You can spend the night out in the rain if you want!"

"I wouldn't let ya kick me out into the rain," Wakiya says with a shrug and a smug grin. "Ya wouldn't have the guts to, anyway."

"Are you staying or not?!" Rantaro growls, maybe a little too loudly as he moves closer to Wakiya, leaning into his face.

"I said I wouldn't let ya kick me out, didn't I?!" Wakiya steps forward, and he's only a _little_ bit shorter than Rantaro (and it's infuriating).

Rantaro spins on his heel, swinging his jacket back up onto his shoulders as he goes…if it hits Wakiya in the face on its way, then that's a complete accident and not at all what he intended to happen. Even though the disgruntled sputtering is satisfying.

x

Not a minute later and they're in Rantaro's room, and the clutter has really gotten away from him in here.

"Don't ya ever clean this place?" Wakiya asks, with clear distaste.

Rantaro is busy shoving a handful of soggy lollipop wrappers from his pocket into his already overstuffed trash can, and doesn't have the patience for this right now. "Don't ya ever mind your business?" he mimics.

They frown at each other for a bit, then Wakiya shivers a little – chilled, probably – and Rantaro deflates.

"I clean it every week, actually…I'm just…bad at keeping it that way." He gives a sheepish grin and scratches at the shorter hairs on the back of his head.

Wakiya snorts and picks his way further into the room, stepping over more discarded wrappers and a surprising amount of comic books. "Obviously."

Deciding to take that as an acceptance of the peace offering, Rantaro gets to work rooting around in the top drawer of his dresser. It's gotta be here somewhere, it was a present and he's never worn it, so it'll be towards the bottom, but – aha! He pulls the wadded up purple shirt out, then digs for sweatpants and socks.

"Here," he says, shoving the whole pile towards Wakiya with one hand as he pushes his drooping hair out of his eyes with the other. To his surprise, Wakiya doesn't hesitate to take it – although he does frown a little at the crumpled ball everything is tangled in. "You can change in the bathroom," Rantaro continues before Wakiya can complain, "first door on your left."

Wakiya carefully weaves out of the room, yet again surprising him with lack of comment, and so Rantaro goes back to digging for pajamas of his own.

x

Twenty minutes is way more time than anyone needs to change (even spoiled rich kids); therefore Rantaro is perfectly justified in pounding on the bathroom door. "Wakiya! Aren't you done yet?" He's already gotten changed in his room, and he stuffs his hands into his sweatshirt pocket angrily to avoid banging again when there's no response. Opening his mouth to yell more, he's cut off by the bathroom door opening.

Wakiya appears, wearing the borrowed pajamas and brandishing a bottle that definitely came from the inside of the bathroom closet. "Y'know, ya really should use better conditioner than this if you're gonna bleach yer hair."

"Gimme that!" Rantaro snatches the conditioner back and points it at Wakiya in an accusatory gesture. "Don't snoop in other peoples' stuff!"

"I needed ta comb my hair," Wakiya defends, flicking said hair over his shoulder. It's loose from its ponytail, and is, indeed, thoroughly combed.

Rantaro shoves past him and into the bathroom, ignoring the indignant protest. He puts the conditioner back in its rightful place, and then turns to the mirror to run his hands through his own hair. There's enough product left in it – and he's pushed it back enough times – for it to stay out of his face on its own, so he shrugs and deems it good enough after tweaking it just a little.

When he turns back around, Wakiya is leaning on the doorframe, smirking. (Rantaro decides that if he makes a smart comment, then he'll counter with one of his own about the way Wakiya had to roll up his pant legs so they wouldn't trail on the floor.)

Wakiya's wet clothes are folded (who folds wet clothes?) in a pile on the floor, which Rantaro scoops up and marches out of the room and directly across the hall with.

"What are ya doin' with those?" Wakiya asks, trailing only half a step behind.

"I'm gonna wash them, of course." That much should be obvious, he thinks, by the washer and drying rack crammed into the tiny laundry room (he's glad they at least have their own one of those). He puts Wakiya's clothes down, next to where his own already are, and opens the lid to the washing machine –

– Only for Wakiya to slam it shut with his palm.

"No yer not," Wakiya says, keeping a firm pressure on the lid, "they need special care."

"Oh do they?" Rantaro asks, brows lifting. "Like this, maybe?" He then proceeds to revel in Wakiya's furious face as he grabs the detergent and pours it directly onto the carefully folded clothes, as well as his own, and then gathers them all in a jumbled pile with one arm.

It has the desired effect, and Wakiya, having had enough, makes a grab for them, releasing his hold on the washer as he does.

Rantaro, of course, takes advantage of this by wrenching it open and shoving the entire tangle of clothes in at top speed before promptly shutting the lid again. He ignores the way Wakiya claws at him as he half-climbs onto the washer to start it up, dusting his hands off when he's finished.

"There!" he says, ignoring the glare as well. "That's all taken care of!"

"You're a terrible host!" Wakiya complains.

"I didn't leave you out in the rain, did I?"

"I told ya I'd never let ya do that t'me!"

"Who's this, Rantaro?"

Without noticing, they'd wandered back into the hall with their argument, and Rantaro can feel his face light up at the sight of his dad in the living room. "You're home early!" He goes to greet him, and is met with the usual hair ruffling - he grins all the while, and pushes his hair back out of his face afterwards.

Wakiya, meanwhile, doesn't move a muscle and stays stubbornly planted at the mouth of the hallway.

"So, who's this?" Rantaro's dad prompts. "One of your friends? That Valt that you've been talking about, maybe?"

"Nah," Rantaro answers without missing a beat, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, "this is just Wakiya."

"Yer son is a terrible host!" Wakiya blurts from somewhere behind him, sounding disgruntled.

Mr. Kiyama just laughs.

x

It's way past dark outside by the time the boys make it back to Rantaro's room with armloads of freshly washed clothes. Somehow, Wakiya managed to get his way in the argument concerning where they should hang them to dry ("There isn't enough space for 'em in here! They'll still be damp in the mornin'!") and so now they're pinning them up in front of Rantaro's small closet.

Rantaro does his a little more haphazardly, so he gets done a little faster and digs out the futon. He sets it up parallel to his own bed, and by the time he's finished, Wakiya is snooping around his bookshelf.

"Are you always this nosy in other peoples' houses?" Rantaro asks, hands on his hips. He's not that bothered, really, but he also can't let this go without at least commenting because…it's Wakiya.

"Are you always this touchy about yer stuff?" Wakiya fires back, using the same imitation tactic Rantaro had pulled earlier. He doesn't give the other blond any space to reply before he's talking again, plucking one of the beys off of the shelf in front of him as he does. "This Ragnaruk looks even weaker than th' one ya got now."

"Hey!" Rantaro snatches his bey back and holds it to his chest. "Don't talk like that about my Ragnaruks! I could beat you any day." Carefully, he situates the bey on the shelf where it belongs, giving it a quick grin as he rubs his thumb over the face of it.

Wakiya crosses his arms and watches with a smug smirk.

Rantaro ignores him.

"Why don' we have a battle, then, if yer so confident," comes the inevitable challenge.

With a soft-yet-irritated growl, Rantaro marches over to his desk. "It's bed time. I'll beat you tomorrow!"

"Y'mean _I'll_ beat _you_ ," Wakiya says. Even without looking, Rantaro knows he's still got that arrogant expression going – it's obvious by the sound of his voice.

Crouching down, Rantaro pulls the plug of his space heater and drags it out, carefully cradling it in one arm. "You wish," he grumbles, twirling his lollipop and cracking a self-assured grin of his own. As Wakiya carries on about how Ragnaruk couldn't possibly win against Wyvern, Rantaro tunes him out and searches for a new home for his space heater. He ends up plugging it in close enough to the sleeping area to make it extra cozy without being overpowering, and turns it on.

"Bed time," he reapeats, once his mission is accomplished.

Wakiya doesn't seem happy to be interrupted, and he sits down on the futon with a scowl. "Ya weren't even listenin'! I said that no matter how hard ya try, Wyvern's just in a different class of – "

Rantaro flicks out the lights.

He's got his room memorized pretty well, so he doesn't even need any light to toss his lollipop stick in the trash. It takes a lot of self-control not to step on Wakiya as he climbs over him to get to his bed…

…but of course Wakiya bends his knees up and trips him anyway. Rantaro doesn't feel bad about kicking him in the shins once he's righted himself and sitting on his bed properly.

"Is that any way ta treat a guest?!" The tone is completely indignant.

Rantaro kicks him again, nudging his hip with his toes this time, not as hard as he would've liked. He doesn't want to hurt him, after all, even though: "You started it!"

"Sure, Kiyama." Wakiya swats at his knee.

Squinting in the darkness, Rantaro can just make out Wakiya's self-satisfied smirk as he settles with his hands behind his head, looking completely relaxed where he lies.

"You're a terrible guest," he says, flopping down on his own bed with a huff.

"And yer still a bad host."

" _Goodnight_ , Wakiya."

* * *

Sorry nothing really happened but THEY BONDED I GUESS? I just like to see them interacting ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
I really struggled with the title but then I got a possible idea for a sequel, so we'll see if that happens, if not I guess this works anyway,

...also Rantaro's laundry technique is terrible, and I don't condone it,  
I still don't know whether to headcanon that he lives in a house or an apartment so if there are inconsistencies anywhere that's why - I kept changing it back and forth. Think I got 'em all, but y'never know.

Thanks for reading!


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